


Molded to Perfection

by Voxal



Category: DECAYS (Japanese Band), Dir en grey, Sukekiyo (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 18:55:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5259926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voxal/pseuds/Voxal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>My comfortably uncomfortable bed. I want to switch sides until your body breaks my mold, until it’s no longer mine. I want you to make it in your shape, so when you’re not here, I can still feel you against me. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Molded to Perfection

For some reason, today feels like it’s going to last forever. I keep dozing off for what feels like a long time, but every time I glance green lights on the digital clock on the nightstand, it only seems to be ten minutes later, maybe fifteen. I might go nuts before the end of the night. I’m starving. I’m getting sharp pains in my stomach from not having eaten all day but I can’t be bothered to get out of my bed. My comfortable bed, molded to my body on one side of the mattress. My comfortably uncomfortable bed. I feel like I can’t function today, and I don’t know what it would take to even get me out of bed. 

The ceiling feels like it’s getting closer, the longer I stare at it. I turn over onto my stomach in the center of the mattress holding he pillow beneath my cheek but the pillow is too fluffy and feels like its putting strain on my neck so I throw it off the bed and roll again. This isn’t my side of the mattress, doesn’t smell like me, my body doesn’t fit into the mold on this side, but the sheets feel refreshingly cool under my bare torso. I should have moved over sooner. It only takes a few minutes of lying here for me to start to feel a little cold, and even though I’m so perfectly comfortable in my spot, the goose bumps prickling my skin demand that I find a blanket to cover myself with, I can feel sleep so deliciously close. I jerk my leg out, pressing my foot against the blanket bunched up at the end of the bed and try to unsuccessfully drag it upward. I wish I hadn’t done that because this cold draft of air makes me shiver. I push up onto my elbow and snatch that fucking blanket it, it should have been closer because now I’m going to lose this comfortable spot that I just had and goddamn, sleep was so fucking close! 

I pull the blanket up to my chin and close my eyes, breathing in deep. Breathing in the scent that’s not mine. Finally, sleep claims me. 

And then I hear a door slam. 

_God-fucking-damnit._

This was just a little ridiculous. I had it in my grasp; I was almost asleep after tossing and turning all morning and afternoon, I just want to sleep. It’s that one noise that is like a slap right in the face saying, ‘Hey! How dare you sleep!’ 

It could be anybody. As terrible as that sounds, quite a few people have the key to my apartment. Management has a copy, Shinya, Toshiya, Die, my mom and my brother, Kaoru even has two copies. I pray, whoever it is, I pray they just turn right around and go back out the door. Unfortunately, I’m not that lucky. I hear the rustling of plastic bags, sock clad feet thudding against the hardwood floor, they couldn’t sound any louder than they do. That is until I hear them heading my way. I wish I closed my bedroom door. I act as natural as possible, feigning sleep. 

It’s not even a minute later that I feel a hand on my hip, another pushing the hair out of my face. I recognize the touch. I’m caught. 

“Open your eyes.” I do as I’m told, not really because he tells me to, but I want to see his face. I want to see the face of this rude person who is stopping me from sleeping. “I brought us some food, get up.” I feel a light smack to my hip as my eyes follow him out the room. Just then my stomach gurgles in anger. I kick the sheets away with all my might and push myself out of that comfortable spot and head to the bathroom. I wash my face, dry it off and head out of the room to the kitchen, almost too quickly. I remember not having the strength to get out of bed, but I seem full of energy now. I don’t have to wait when I enter the kitchen. He has food on the table, on a plate, utensils in place, drinks poured, containers in the garbage. “What have you done all day?” he asks as he sits down in the seat next to me, his legs bending beneath the chair as he sits on the edge of it. I almost feel childish next to him, sitting in my chair with my legs folded beneath me, Indian style. 

I shake my head. Nothing is what I’ve done. I stayed in bed all day. I rolled into your spot, on your side of the bed. I almost fell asleep in the mold of your body. It wasn’t shaped for me, but it so comfortable. I want to switch sides until your body breaks my mold, until it’s no longer mine. I want you to make it in your shape, so when you’re not here, I can still feel you against me. 

He hums a response as he pushes food passed those perfect teeth. His tongue darted out to clean his lips of the sauce from the food. 

I guess I doing a little too much staring and not enough eating. He gathered some of the noodles between his utensils and holds it against my lips, his hand a little beneath my chin. He must have thought I was eyeing his food. I wasn’t at all. He pokes at my lower lip and I obediently part my lips and accept the food, wrapping my lips around the same utensil he just had his mouth on. He pulled them out of my mouth too fast, I couldn’t even taste him. He pushes more food into his mouth and stares at me. 

“You don’t like it?” he questions. Immediately I start chewing, my face feeling like it’s splitting horizontally. I quickly cover my mouth as I chew, trying my best to hide my crooked and mutter a ‘good’ without showing him the food he just gave me. I think I ate too much, I can’t stop yawning. Yawning so much my eyes keep watering. But we end up watching some TV on the couch, some new DVD that his brother let him borrow. We don’t finish watching it though, at least I don’t think so, I keep dozing off. When I open my eyes, the TV’s off and he’s holding my bicep, pulling me out of the seat. I stumble over my own feet, but he’s got his hands on my waist, holding me firmly, keeping me from falling flat on my face. He guides me around the side of the bed and underneath the covers, but this isn’t my spot. It’s not what I’m used to but it’s what I want. Did he know about it? Did he know I wanted to sleep in his embrace without being smothered or smothering him in return? 

_I wonder._

By the time the morning comes, my body hurts. I’m not lying flat on the bed like normal, I feel like I’m bent in fallen open parenthesis. I feel like I’m suffocating but I can’t be bothered to move from this uncomfortably comfortable spot. My forehead is pressed into the side of his neck, my body half on his, half on the mattress, one of my legs over one of his, crossing at the thigh, resting on the mattress from the knee down. His leg jerks, jerks mine along with it and I become aware of my painfully dead arm beneath me. I struggle to squeeze it out from underneath my body but don’t move a muscle more. I can see the inside of my palm when I crack my eyes open, it looks so lifeless resting on its side on his chest, rising and falling with every breath he takes. His fingers are wrapped around my wrist, firmly keeping it in place as I flick my pinky against the thin material of his wife-beater. Did he pull me into this position during the night or did I roll over onto him? 

_I wonder…_

_When I get up, when we wake up and get ready for the day, will we leave a new mold imprinted in the mattress? A new mold for us to slip into? Or will it take a few more tries to get this perfection to stay?_


End file.
